Fly me to the moon
by the local knicker merchant
Summary: Set sometime in the future, after Carla's psychosis recovery; Carla and Peter are making plans…
1. Chapter 1: Today

**Chapter 1: Today**

Peter didn't need the glorious sunshine that was streaming in through their bedroom window to tell him that today was going to be a perfect day. He stretched lazily and gazed at the woman sleeping peacefully in bed next to him. The perfect woman for the perfect day.

He reached out and gently caressed her cheek. Even though he and Carla had been forced to rebuild their lives from scratch after her breakdown, and even though they were still living in his dad's spare room without a real home of their own, they had each other. In Peter's mind, that made them the richest and the luckiest two people in the world.

Carla began to stir. Peter watched as her eyelids flickered and slowly opened; how she looked at him, how recognition immediately translated into a genuine smile.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Peter accompanied his greeting with a soft kiss on Carla's lips.

"Mmm…" Carla stretched, gradually reacquainting herself with consciousness. Then a wonderful realisation hit her.

"It's today."

"Yeah, baby, it's today."

Peter wrapped his arms around Carla and pulled her body close to his; together they lay wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the morning sun, contemplating the day ahead.

* * *

"Dad's gone to the library," Peter held up a note that had been propped up in the middle of the kitchen table of Number 1, Coronation Street. "Says he'll be back by eleven."

"That's plenty of time. What about Si?"

"I'll give him a call."

Peter pulled out his mobile and placed a call while Carla busied herself with making them coffee.

"Yeah, Si, where are you?"

"In town? When are you gonna be back?"

"No, sorry, that's not good enough, you need to get back here now."

"Why? Because I said so."

"No, you can't go out later. Make sure you're back here within the hour. And no more of your cheek, mister!"

Peter hung up the phone and turned to Carla, who passed him a steaming mug of coffee.

"Thanks, babe." Peter accepted the coffee and took a sip before continuing. "He went to town with his mates."

"I'm sure he loved you ordering him back home."

"He'll lose the attitude when he finds out why."

"I hope so."

"So," Peter formulated a plan in his head. "We should go to the Rovers first, then Michelle, Roy, Daniel, Adam, then back here for dad and Si."

"Sounds like a plan."

Carla gave Peter a quick peck on the lips before turning back to the kitchen bench. "What do you fancy for breakfast?"

But Peter wasn't ready to let her go just yet; he gently grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her towards him. She happily obliged, allowing her body to meld into his, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

"How you feeling, love?"

Carla was feeling so many things at once, she didn't quite know how to answer.

"I dunno? Nervous. Excited. Happy. Mainly happy."

"Me too."

Carla looked up at Peter; he looked back at her, at the love of his life, and kissed her. A deep, passionate kiss, that emptied each of their minds of any thoughts of breakfast. Who needed food when such kisses existed?

* * *

Carla knocked again on the front door of the Rovers, still locked and bolted until the pub officially opened over an hour from now.

"We're closed!"

The sound of Johnny's voice was muffled through the closed door.

"Johnny, it's me! It's Carla! Open the door, will you!?"

Soon enough, they heard the sound of metal against metal as first the key was turned in the lock and then the bolt was slid across.

The door opened to reveal Johnny Connor, surprised to see his daughter and her partner on his doorstep at this time of the morning.

"Come in, come in. What's the emergency?"

"No emergency," Peter lead Carla over the threshold and into the quiet pub where the landlord and landlady were preparing for a busy day ahead. "Hi, Jenny."

Jenny looked up from the till where she was counting out the change into the various compartments.

"Oh, hey, you two. What are you doing here so early?"

"Umm, we wanted a word actually."

"Oh, sounds serious."

Jenny left the till and joined her husband, who was waiting anxiously for whatever it was Carla and Peter were about to reveal.

"So?" Johnny couldn't handle the suspense any longer. "Spit it out. Whatever it is."

"Well," Carla glanced nervously at Peter. "We were wondering if you two were free this afternoon?"

"This afternoon?"

"At four pm to be exact," Peter narrowed it down for them.

"We're working. Both of us."

"Can't you get cover? It's important."

"Is everything okay, love?" Johnny was getting worried now.

"Everything's great," Carla reassured her father. "The thing is, me and Peter…"

"We're getting married," Peter interjected, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

"Married?" Johnny suddenly struggled to understand the meaning of the word, as if they were speaking in a foreign language.

"Today," Carla added. "Four pm."

Carla and Peter looked at each other and grinned.

"Oh my god."

"We're getting married."

"Today!"


	2. Chapter 2: Vows

**Chapter 2: Vows**

Carla stood alone in the private waiting room that was attached to the Pankhurst Suite of the Manchester Registry Office and peered into the large mirror flanking one wall. She stared at her reflection, from her head to her toes she gave herself a final once-over. Despite her and Peter's second wedding being a small, registry office affair, she still wanted everything to be perfect. The dress, the flowers, her hair and makeup; everything.

Carla was conscious that Peter had seen her at her worst while she was in the grip of her psychosis; when she wasn't taking care of herself, not washing nor dressing with any concern for appearance or hygiene. But Peter still loved her through all of that; he saw past the superficial. Carla knew that she could walk down that aisle today wearing leggings and a hoodie and Peter would think himself the luckiest man on earth. It was this knowledge that had made Carla want to pay special attention to her appearance today. She wanted to look beautiful for him; for Peter.

Even though she had been forced to compromise on many material things since living on a reduced income, her tastes did not always follow suit and, when she'd laid eyes on this gown, she'd fallen in love; she had to have it. And, while it was a part of last season's line, it was still way beyond her means. A little cajoling and begging, however, and she had been able to borrow the dress for one night only.

"Wow."

Carla turned to see Michelle stood at the door of the waiting room.

"You, my dear, are a vision."

"Is it alright?"

"You know it is."

"You think Peter will like it?"

"He'll love it. His jaw will hit the floor when he sees you. Trust me."

Michelle took Carla's hands in hers and kissed her on the cheek.

"You ready?"

"Is everyone here?"

"Yeah, they're all here."

"Peter's here?"

"Yes, Peter's here. Of course Peter's here, darlin'. You've got nothing to be nervous about."

"Just after last time, it was such a disaster. Chelle, I couldn't cope if it all went wrong again."

"Hey, that was a different time. Peter, he's different now. He would never do that to you, not again."

"I know, I do know that. I'm being silly."

Carla blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Hey," Michelle pulled out a tissue and dabbed at Carla's eyes. "It's obvious that he loves you so much. Listen, _you_ know what I used to think of him."

"Yeah," Carla laughed. "You did mention it once or twice."

"Well, he's proved me wrong. And you know how I hate to be wrong, let alone admit I'm wrong. But I'm admitting it now. I was wrong about Peter Barlow."

"Thanks, Chelle."

Carla kissed Michelle this time.

"I'm ready."

* * *

Three generations of Barlow men stood huddled at the front of the ceremony room, each dressed in smart day suits. Peter wore a simple but elegantly cut dark grey three-piece suit over a crisp white shirt and light grey woven silk tie. To his lapel was pinned a boutonniere to match Carla's bouquet, the only clue Peter had to what Carla would be wearing that day.

"How you feeling, son?"

"I feel… lucky. Lucky to be given this second chance."

"You're both lucky."

"I hope so, I really do."

"You both deserve some happiness. I'm so proud of you for how you've stood by Carla. Not many men would have."

"Thanks dad."

Peter turned to his son.

"Si, are you okay? I know we sprung this on you last minute."

"Yeah, sure."

Peter's brow furrowed with sudden worry at Simon's casual tone.

"Dad," Simon warned, "I'm not getting soppy, okay."

"I just need to know that you're fine with this."

"Of course I am, I'm more than fine. To be honest, I don't know what took you so long."

Peter laughed.

"As long as you're happy."

"Yes, dad. I'm happy if you're happy. And Carla makes you happy. That's good enough for me. Okay?"

Peter hugged Simon, relieved that this time he and Carla had the whole family's blessing.

"Peter," Ken drew his son's attention to Michelle, who had just entered the room.

Michelle nodded and smiled at Peter as she took her seat.

Peter now took his place at the front of the aisle and turned to the other end, in nervous anticipation of his bride's appearance.

And then she was there; Peter almost forgot to breathe, he was so overcome by Carla's beauty. She wore a striking red dress. The top was formed of a sweetheart neckline with a double ruffle extending over one shoulder and diagonally down the front of the dress to the opposite hip where it fell in soft layers to the ground. The shoulder with the ruffles was finished with a long, fitted sleeve, while the other arm was bare. The skirt was fitted around the hips and then fell to the floor in delicate layers that danced with a bewitching movement as she walked, with a thigh high split up the left side of the skirt giving intoxicating glimpses of Carla's legs. A pair of gold stilettos with a delicate ankle strap completed the outfit. Carla had styled her hair into side-swept soft waves that tumbled over the front of her bare left shoulder. A nude lip and smoky eye and Carla looked every bit the goddess she had always been in Peter's mind.

Matching Peter's boutonniere, Carla carried a small bouquet of delicate creamy white magnolia blooms with contrasting rich dark green foliage.

Across the room Carla's eyes searched for Peter's; his searched for hers. Their eyes met; their faces each broke into a wide smile. Everything and everyone else in the room fell away, no one else mattered but the two of them.

Carla walked down the aisle, her eyes fixed on Peter's with every step she took. Finally, she was there, standing in front of him. She held out her bouquet, someone took it from her, she didn't know who, she didn't care. Her only thoughts were of Peter as he took her hands in his.

* * *

"The vows I'm about to say to you, I've said them before. I meant every word the first time, but I didn't really understand what they meant. Not then. And my biggest regret was that I broke those vows to you. So, I want to say those same vows to you today, knowing that I truly understand their meaning now. Knowing that I can stand by them today and every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter smiled nervously at Carla. He was taking a risk reciting the same vows to her; he didn't want to remind her of the mess he'd made of their first marriage. But he wanted to prove to her that he was a changed man, that he cherished her far too much to make the same mistakes again.

Carla smiled back at Peter; he found the courage to continue.

"Now you will feel no rain, because I will be your shelter. Now you will feel no cold, for I will keep you warm."

* * *

"Some people have said we're deluding ourselves thinking we can make this work a second time. Why are you giving him another chance? People don't change, he won't change. But I like to think of us, of me and Peter, as a piece of Japanese pottery."

A wave of laughter spread across the room at Carla's unexpected comparison.

"No, trust me, it makes sense. It really does. So, in Japan, they've got this tradition called 'Kintsugi', it means 'golden joinery'. You see, when they broke an item of pottery, they didn't just immediately throw it out with the rubbish; they repaired it, they glued it back together with gold. Real gold. And so the pottery wasn't just serviceable again, but it's value was so much greater than the original. And the scars, those golden scars, they were on display for the world to see. They were proud of the life and the history of what was broken and made whole again.

"Something might be broken; a marriage, a heart, a mind. But that doesn't mean it can't be fixed, that it can't be made stronger and more beautiful than before. Me and Peter, we're not trying to hide the cracks, the broken bits of our lives. We're fixing them back together with gold; with forgiveness, with trust, with love. And at the end of it all, we're so much stronger together than we've ever been apart."

The tears were flowing down both Carla and Peter's faces by this stage. The remainder of the ceremony flew by in a blur; before they knew it, they were being declared husband and wife; Mr and Mrs Barlow.

Then Peter was kissing his bride; he held her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers, his body against hers. Like a broken piece of Japanese pottery, they'd been bound back together with gold, stronger and more beautiful than ever.


	3. Chapter 3: First dance

**Chapter 3: First dance**

Ting ting ta ting ting ta ting ting ta ting ta ting ta...

"_Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars; __let me see what Spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…"_

As the opening drum beat and dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra radiated from the Rovers jukebox, Peter held out his hand to his wife; Carla slipped her hand into Peter's and spun into his arms.

"…_In other words, hold my hand..."_

The sweep of Carla's dress flashed by in a flurry of silky redness as Peter led her around the makeshift dancefloor, swaying in time to the syncopated rhythms of Ol' Blue Eyes.

"Are you happy, love?"

"Mmm… deliriously."

"…_In other words, baby kiss me..."_

They kissed; despite all their friends and family watching their first dance as husband and wife, to Carla and Peter it was as if they were the only two people in the room.

"…_Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more; __you are all I long for, all I worship and adore..."_

"Me too, baby. Or should I say, Mrs Barlow."

"Ooh, say that again, Mr Barlow."

"Mrs Barlow," Peter whispered into his wife's ear.

"…_In other words, please be true;_

_In other words, I love you…"_

As Count Basie's orchestra launched into a musical interlude, filled with harmonised brass hits and flute motifs, Ken tapped Peter on the shoulder.

Carla happily swapped her husband for her father-in-law for the remainder of the song; she had always had a soft spot for Ken and, despite living in his house as his son's partner, officially becoming his daughter-in-law again was a special moment for Carla.

"You look beautiful, Carla."

"Thanks, Ken."

"And you make my son very happy, so… welcome to the family. Again."

Carla laughed; while Ken was not as quick as he once was, or wished he was, he led Carla slowly around the dancefloor with a steady grip; one hand on her waist, the other holding her hand.

Peter watched his wife dance with his father, a look of mingled adoration and contentment on his face.

"Congratulations, son."

"Oh, thanks," a startled Peter turned to Johnny, who had sidled up next to him as he leaned against the bar. "And thank you so much for organising a reception at short notice."

"It's the least we could do. I can't believe you hadn't planned anything yourself."

"Yeah, well, us getting married was the important bit. And, you know, we'd already had the big fancy do and… well, look how that turned out."

"Yeah…"

"Before you say anything, I know that was all my fault."

"You said it."

"I do regret it. Really, I do."

"Promise me that things will be different this time. Because, I swear, if you hurt her again…"

"Johnny, on my life, on Simon's life, I will never ever hurt Carla like that again."

Johnny stared at Peter; when he had first heard what Peter had done on his and Carla's first wedding night, he never imagined Carla would ever speak to the man again, let alone open her heart to him after such a cruel betrayal. But, here they were, and her daughter was more in love with Peter than ever before. And, even though Peter had proven himself loyal over the past year or so, Johnny couldn't help but worry about his daughter and fear for her future happiness.

"You better not."

"What's with the serious faces?"

Carla, fresh from the dancefloor with a ruddy glow on her cheeks, wrapped her arms around Peter and kissed his cheek.

"Nothing, love, just giving my new son-in-law the 'don't hurt my daughter' speech."

"Really?" Carla was amused. "And are you properly quaking in your boots, husband?"

"Hey," Peter cheekily chastised Carla. "He's right. I need to look after you, and cherish you, and love you, and –"

"Alright, alright," Johnny held his hands up. "I know you will, I know that. I just, I want her – No, I want the both of you, I want you to be happy."

"We are."

* * *

"How you feeling?" Peter watched Carla intently as she sat on the bench in the still darkness of the Rovers back yard.

When Peter had announced his intention of heading outside for a cigarette break, Carla jumped at the chance of some alone time with her new husband.

"As much as I appreciate Johnny and Jenny throwing us a party, I'm not gonna lie, it's nice to get some peace and quiet. Finally get a chance to…"

"What?"

"Do this…"

Carla kissed Peter.

"Without a crowd of people watching on."

"We got the rest of our lives for that. But there is one thing we didn't get to do."

"Oh, yeah. What's that?"

"Finish our first dance."

Peter stubbed out his cigarette and pulled Carla towards him, holding her as if ready to dance.

"There's no music, silly."

"That's easy fixed."

And so Peter began to sing the closing verse of what would forever be known as their song, accompanied by Carla's dirty giggle, a sound that Peter adored.

"Fill my heart with song, let me sing forever more…"

Peter wrapped his arms around Carla and pulled her in close, rocking her gently from side-to-side as he slowly spun them both around. He nuzzled into her neck as he serenaded her softly, almost whispering the words into her ear.

"…You are all I long for, all I worship and adore…"

Carla wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and gazed at him with almost overwhelming pride; she couldn't believe that they'd made it, that they were married, that she was at this very moment dancing with her husband.

"…In other words, please be true. In other words, In other words, I… love…"

Peter masterfully held firmly onto Carla's waist as he dipped her backwards.

"You!"

And then he kissed her; a kiss that told her he loved her at that moment and promised to love her every day for the rest of their lives.


End file.
